


Light A Candle For Me

by SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adviser!Pidge, Blaine accidentally wrote Craig instead of Keith, Candle Flowers, Don't judge Blaine on their lack of understanding of dancing., First Meeting, Gardener!Hunk, Happy Ending, If you're reading this you're too close, Keith can dance, Lance cannot, M/M, Mentions of Pedophilia, Mentions of Rape, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Violence, PLEASE., Que accidentally wrote Chris instead of Lance, Strangers to Lovers, Traveler!Shiro, What is happening to us?, klangst, mentions of assault, orphan!Keith, prince!lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 03:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat/pseuds/SpaceDarling_and_GrumpyCat
Summary: It was as if they'd met in another life.Lance was just tired of pretending to flirt with the nobility at the party, Keith wanted a way out. Neither of them expected to stumble into each other on that moonlit garden path, and neither could believe the things that followed weren't a dream. Some things, after all, are too deep for words, and too good to be true.Yet Lance knows it's real, and eventually, the candlelight will find that beautiful stranger, and lead him back home.





	Light A Candle For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tumbles into the world* HELLO IT IS I, QUE! Back at it again with another happy dappy story that turned into- well... You read the tags, you know what's coming.
> 
> Basically, Blaine inspired the title, and the title inspired the rest. Granted we already have a story in progress about Lance as a Prince, but fuck it, why not two?
> 
> Besides, any chance to write with my darling B is a good one in my book! I love them so much~
> 
> But enough chitchat;
> 
> Enjoy~

“Lance…? Lance!" Jerking his head up, Lance turned to look at Pidge, who was tapping their foot and looking down at him, unimpressed. “Come on, Lance!  You can’t fall asleep, okay!?” they insisted, for what was probably the hundredth time that night. “You’re the Prince, this is  _ your _ party!  Just...Dance with someone, okay?”

Lance let a soft whine escape his nose. “But I already danced with, like, fifteen people. Isn’t that enough?" It wasn’t that he  _ didn’t _ want to dance with the many beautiful dignitaries and princesses from neighboring kingdoms; it was just that after a while, everyone started to look the same. “C’mon, Pidge, I’m not falling asleep.”

“Yes, you are!” Pidge argued hotly, crossing their arms and rustling their official robes. “Lance, the King threw this party for  _ you;  _ this is the potential future of our country at stake!  Please take it seriously.”

“I am!” he insisted. Glancing out over the gathered women, who were all mingling with the other noblemen that were in attendance, Lance sighed, disinterested. You could only flirt with so many girls in one night before you started to realize how contrived the whole situation was. Honestly, he had thought that this would be like paradise, but in reality, it just felt like another chore.  _ I’m not ready to get married yet; this isn’t helping anyone. _

__ __ Pidge’s skeptical expression matched Lance’s inability to fake interest. “Lance, don’t even bother trying to get past me. I  _ know _ you.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he complained, fussing in irritation with his ridiculously fine clothing, all tailored precisely for him. “I don’t want to be here anymore, okay?  I’m bored.”

“Obviously,” Pidge grumbled, crossing their arms and glancing away.

Uncomfortable, Lance glanced over at the King. The man was talking jovially with the queen of the mountain kingdom, laughing as he always did. He hardly seemed to notice Lance’s shirking of his duties, but the brunet felt the weight of his negligence all the same. Eyes traveling over to Pidge guiltily, Lance decided to accept his defeat with as much grace as he could manage.

“Look, if I mingle, will that make you happy?" Though Pidge was, technically, Lance’s adviser, the man thought of them as a friend. Call him foolishly sentimental, but when you grew up as royalty, friends were few and far between. Lance clung to what he got and didn’t let go. So when Pidge’s expression turned to something approaching relief at his proposition, the man felt better.

“Yes,” Pidge muttered, arms still crossed. “You don’t even have to talk to anyone. Just  _ pretend _ , alright?" Well, pretending didn’t sound so bad. Nodding, Lance heaved himself to his feet and attempted to disguise his stretching as dignified movements. Rolling their eyes, Pidge elbowed him. “Go...meet some princesses or something.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Lance assured them. “See you later~" Giving his adviser a playful little flourish of his hand, Lance swayed off into the dancing crowd. Artfully dodging the different people swaying to the music, Lance ended up being forced to catch a girl’s hands in a quick pattern to avoid being knocked over. As the girl stammered and blushed, Lance gave her a quick apology before ducking out and twirling through the crowd once again.

It wasn’t the most efficient thing to do, and he didn’t even have a goal, but Lance figured that not getting crushed was a pretty decent one for now. The music swelling around them was beautiful, and he silently reminded himself to tell Pidge that he liked their brother’s playing. It wasn’t oppressively loud, per say, but it carried, rippling out over the dancers and escaping through the many open windows. Even though he wasn’t much in the mood for dancing, Lance still swayed to it, using the rhythm to help extricate himself from the other nobles.

Skirting the edges of the party, checking to be sure Pidge wasn’t watching, Lance finally settled upon a new plan and fixed his eyes on the forgotten doors of one of the smaller balconies. Everyone was quite content to dance, after all, and this balcony was one of the few that had been forgotten and unfilled with people. Giving his surroundings a final look over, Lance slipped through the doors, at last escaping the party.

Gratefully drawing in a deep breath, Lance strolled out onto the balcony as the remaining tension of the night rolled off of him. Honestly, he was too young to get married. The King knew that, and yet he was still being pushed forward at an alarming rate. Technically, Lane could refuse it, but under the circumstances, things had become rather controlled  He  _ had _ to say yes. If not to one of the princesses in there, then to someone else befitting his status.

Which was stupid, but no one had asked Lance.

Shrugging out of his heavy cape, Lance hung it on the swirl of one of the light fixtures and stepped closer to the railing. Despite loving his cloak, the evening was hot, and practicality won out over vanity. Fingering his crown, Lance considered ditching it as well. In the end, Lance shrugged and hung it up with his cape. It wasn’t like he cared much anyway.

Considering the line of people he’d come from, Lance wasn’t always instantly recognized at royalty. Everyone before him had been born with the ears of the faeries and pure white hair, but he had quite ordinary, tawny hair and very normal ears. At a quick glance, Lance looked kind if plain.

That didn’t mean that he was able to go about unrecognized. Most people knew him as the prince, but if he was careful about it, he could pass by unnoticed by everyone. Sometimes the doubt he received hurt, but Lance had learned to shrug it off.  _ Brown hair can just be a new tradition or something. _

__ __ The errant thought made him smile. 

Wandering over to the edge of the balcony he stood on, Lance looked out over the beautiful palace gardens and inhaled deeply. They were considered to be a marvel of the world, and Lance considered their primary tender, Hunk, as his only other real friend. The man had been a cook at the time, but after beginning to garden, he’d quickly found his new place. No one was about to begrudge him it. Besides, things looked a lot more impressive than they had before Hunk had gotten his hands on things.

Leaning heavily on his hand as a wave of weariness hit him, Lance blew out a breath and stared down at the shadows cast over the ground. It wasn’t fair that he was stuck in here, yet it was mind-numbingly dumb of him not to be grateful for it. He was the prince; he shouldn’t be griping  _ ever.  _ He was lucky to live the life he did. But sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. Nothing could have made him want to be here, and he didn’t much care for faking it any longer.

_ So go on; get out.  _ The niggling thought stirred Lance, and he cast a more critical eye at the ground beneath him. Okay, it wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it  _ probably _ wasn’t the worse, either. Sure, traipsing anywhere at this hour wasn’t likely to lead to anything good, but Lance was fairly certain that it wouldn’t lead to anything bad, either. This was the palace, after all; it wasn’t like much could touch him.

Therefore, with very little to hold him back, Lance leaped over the railing and skirted it’s rim until he found the shingled eves of a doorway below. It wasn’t exactly the most graceful of journeys, but, Lance figured, there wasn’t anyone watching anyway. His ankles and knees twinged as he landed hard on the ground, but he straightened quickly and looked around, determined to find something to do. Unfortunately, he hadn’t exactly had a plan, so he ended up just wandering.

As the music from the abandoned party followed him, Lance wound his way through tight paths and silent rows of swaying flowers. It was a beautiful garden, all carefully planned out an executed. Though there were quite a few gardeners who helped with it, Lance still smiled at the memories of following Hunk through with Pidge in tow. They were an odd bunch, the three of them, but they didn’t really care. For which Lance was grateful.

That right there was the problem, wasn’t it?  Lance kicked a pebble in mild irritation. He was looked at as royalty by almost everyone, not as a person. It’s why parties like the one he’d just left were so dull; everyone talked to  _ the prince _ , but no one talked to Lance. He just got to take a backseat role while his titles did all the talking for him. And who in their right mind wanted to live like that?

Pidge and Hunk were better about treating him like he was  _ Lance _ and not “His Royal Highness Lance”, but sometimes even they fell into the obvious trap.

Pausing where he stood, shadowed by the willow tree a foreign dignitary had brought to them, Lance closed his eyes for a moment. Beside him, he could hear the sounds of the slow moving brook that had been carefully diverted and run through the place, the sounds of the crickets hopping in the grass. There were few sounds Lance found more calming. It was nature and the Prince could hold it in the palm of his hand.

A soft humming broke through Lance’s contemplations.

Eyes flying open, the man’s head snapped up and he quickly looked around, confused. That sounded like a human, obviously, but it wasn’t Hunk, and Lance was fairly certain that the other gardeners had been asked to help with the party.  _ I don’t recognize the voice _ . Or the tone, perhaps was the better way of phrasing it. Actually, now that he was focusing on the sounds, it was familiar. Someone was humming the faint music from the party.

Creeping around the willow, trying to get a better view of the brook, Lance’s eyebrows crept up in faint surprise.

There  _ was _ someone standing there. Quiet, attempting not to draw attention to himself, Lance’s eyes widened. The first thing that caught his attention were the man’s eyes. Cesious, with flecks of bright crystal blue shooting through them. In that moment, Lance was pretty sure that he was losing his mind because he couldn’t even begin to look away.

Without even really thinking about it, Lance stepped out from behind the tree so he could get a better look. The man was a bit shorter than him, with sharp cheekbones and dark, lanky hair that framed his face like a picture frame. His breath caught as those fine lips parted, and a few murmured words in what sounded like a different language emerged, like he was singing to the music still streaming from the castle.

~

Keith wasn’t sure why he was here. He knew that he shouldn’t be. A poor orphan with nothing to his name had no right to be in the palace gardens. True, he had been coming here for years now, in the dead of the night to walk among the flowers, the streams, the trees when there was no one around, when he couldn’t stand around the orphanage anymore. It wasn’t really like he was _ actually _ an orphan anymore, in reality, but he still lived there. Where else would he go?  He helped out with the children, with cooking meals, and mending clothes. He helped keep the place clean and running smoothly. In truth, the place would probably fall apart without him.

But on nights like these, when one of the priests running the place got a little too handsy, when he had no choice but to defend against their touch, Keith needed to get away. And here was the only place that he could go.

Years ago, he had found a weak spot in one of the fence-like shrubs and had ducked inside the gardens when he was running from neighborhood bullies. This place was a haven for him, a place he could go to escape all the torture and pain of the place he had grown up in. He wanted to leave, to find new places and go on adventures….but he couldn’t leave the kids. He was their only defense against the priests taking out their pleasure. Keith made sure that all of that was turned on him. He  _ needed _ to be there to help those kids. That was the only reason he stayed.

Sighing, Keith tried to shake all the negativity from his bones. He really shouldn’t be here especially not when the Prince’s party was in full swing. Who knows when someone would come exploring out here and find him. Despite all of that, though, Keith stayed. He couldn’t seem to get his body to move, to leave.

Behind him, way up in the palace, the song changed. Instead of the face paces numbers that had been going on most of the night, this one was a soft, quiet waltz, one that he recognized. His mother had sung the notes to this song way back before she disappeared, when Keith was still a child. There were no words, but she used to make up her own. Keith could still remember them, and he knew the notes by heart. Beginning to hum along with the music, swaying slightly, Keith soon found himself singing the words his mother had taught him. He didn’t know the steps to this dance, but he supposed he could make up his own.

The noirette cast his eyes to the sky and smiled. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, the stars were bright, and the light summer breeze picked up his hair and fluttered it about. In this place, where no one else could find him, Keith felt completely and irreparably  _ free _ .

His slow sways soon turned into pirouettes, his years of learning ballet flowing back to him. That had been so, so long ago, but he could still remember the pain he went through. His muscles remembered each step gracefully, rising up on his toes and his arms moved away from his body, to circle around himself. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over completely to the music, to the memory. The song was about lost love returned after death and rebirth, and he wished that he could have that, someone that could recognize him from lives long past.

He didn’t even feel like he was on the ground anymore. With his eyes closed and the music flowing through him, the breeze picked up the edges of his clothes and the loose hair that had come free from the leather cord he kept it tamed in at the back of his neck. He felt like he was floating in the farthest reaches of the universe, on the soft sandy floor of the bottom of the ocean. It was like he was the only one on earth, and it gave him a fleeting sense of sadness. However, somewhere in that sadness, he felt free. And it was all he had ever wanted.

The song soon wound down into the last final notes, and Keith bowed to a nonexistent audience. He drank in the air around him. It had been a long time since he had danced, and it showed. His panting breaths were all he could hear in his ears. Opening his eyes, the noirette blinked slowly and smiled as the breeze picked up, releasing the last bit of hair that was confined in its cord. He moved some of the hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear.

Then, he heard a sound next to him, the crunch of a leaf or the snap of a twig, he wasn’t sure.

He rounded on the sound and was shocked to see someone standing there. Someone...familiar.

But not...because he had seen them before. He knew for a fact that he had never seen this person in his life, but their presence...their aura, the way they carried themselves was so familiar. Like he had known it before...in another time...another life.

The moment the stranger caught his eyes, Lance’s heart stuttered to a stop. Suddenly aware of the fact that he was staring like an idiot, Lane did the only thing he could think of. He clapped.

Loudly.

And as awkwardly as possible.

“That was...R-really beautiful!” he exclaimed, attempting to ignore the heat that flared into his cheeks. The man reside the river just gave him a guarded look, like he was considering running.  _ He’s going to leave.  _ Reaching out a hand, the Prince insisted, “Wait!  I’m sorry! I just—I was...” Trailing off, Lance rubbed the back of his neck and lapsed into silence. “Never mind...”

As quickly as that flash of remembrance appeared, it was gone. All that remained was his “fight or flight” response, and currently, the arrow was pointing straight for “flight”. He really didn’t want to be caught, but just as he was about to turn and book it, the man in front of him held out a hand and began to babble like a moron.

“Who are you…?” Keith whispered once the main once more became silent, not wanting to attract anymore attention. He had already been dumb enough to dance out in the open where anyone could see. He wasn’t going to get himself caught by the guards as well. As much as he wanted to run, something in him kept his feet firmly glued to the ground, his eyes trained on the man in front of him.

“Who—who am I?" Looking at the man, Lance’s eyes widened.  _ He doesn’t know who I am. Everyone knows who I am.  _ Maybe that told you a little about where Lance’s priorities lay, but the thought that this man didn’t know who he was excited him. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he tried to think of something to say.

In lieu of anything he’d consider remotely intelligent, Lance suddenly blustered, “I- I hardly think it matters who I am, actually. Considering the circumstances...uhm...who are you?" As the stranger lurched backwards, Lance quickly retracted his words with a hurried, “N-not that you’re in trouble or anything!  I was just..." He trailed off as those cesious eyes caught his own in a stare that was as intelligent as it was wary. “Curious,” he finished, lamely.

_ Curious…? _  Keith’s brain couldn’t seem to catch up. Who was this person...why wasn’t he turning Keith in?  Why wasn’t he yelling for the guards? From the fancy clothes he wore and the elf-life, metal cuffs that adorned his ears, this guy was some kind of royal. He had to be. Why else would he have been in this part of the gardens?  He couldn’t be like Keith, escaping from the tortures of his life to hide away in a remote grove. Or maybe he was, but Keith couldn’t see a royal ever escaping from a life of luxury. It made no sense. But something else caught his attention.

Why would this man ask who Keith was when the highborn wouldn’t even tell the noirette who  _ he _ was?  It was kind of infuriating, to be honest. And Keith was always more likely to be guarded than open.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. I’m not staying.”

He said that, but his legs and his heart wanted him to stay put, to figure out why this man made Keith feel so...at ease, when every single person Keith had ever met made him want to run and hide to escape the awful torture that was humanity.

_ Wait, no, he can’t leave yet.  _ Quickly, a whole lot more desperately than he would have liked, Lance lurched forward and insisted, “No, you don’t have to leave!  I mean, you can stay if you want!"  _ Augh, I’m bad at this.  _ “I want you to stay,” he amended, enunciating his words carefully. “I thought your dancing was beautiful. I think you’re-- Uhm...What I mean to say is...”

Shaking his head, turning redder by the second as he realized that  _ holy crap, he had almost told this stranger he’d met in the middle of that night that he was beautiful,  _ Lance summoned all of his royal pomp and circumstance that he’d never been particularly keen on using and gracefully gave a slight bow. “Forgive me, I was simply wondering why you weren’t inside for the party. You have the eyes of someone who’d look good in more refined clothes." Well, now he sounded even more idiotic, but at least he wasn’t stammering anymore…

Keith’s first reaction was to smack the guy. His second instinct was to run. His third, and the one he ended up settling on, was to laugh. It started out with a snort that soon erupted into actual, gut-wrenching laughter that almost brought him to his knees. Bending at the waist, holding his stomach, tears sprung to his eyes and he struggled to breath.

“M-me!?  At a party!?" It was laughable, crazy, moronic. A poor orphan, going to a royal’s party?  Yeah, right! “Oh, no, no, no! I would not look better up there with all of them. I’d be kicked out on the spot, nosiree.”

Keith’s laughter faded to little hiccups and he was able to stand straight again. He wiped his eyes with the knuckle of his pointer finger and sighed. “Oh, boy, that was funny!" He looked up at the definite royal that was staring at him as if he had gone insane and tucked his hair behind his ear again. “Thank you, but I don’t think I should be at that party. I don’t belong there." He cast a sad look up at the brightly lit windows of the palace, just able to see the swinging forms of other royals dancing around. “I shouldn’t even be here,” he murmured, looking back down at himself, his threadbare, patchy clothes the very picture of poverty. Even the corset he wore, for god knows what reason, was starting to show wear and tear. He needed a new one, but they were so expensive. His boots were dark and cracking, the leather far too old. They were hand-me-downs from some of the orphans that were able to find jobs and more money and left their old belongings behind for the younger generations. Keith sighed, his cesious eyes glistening with tears left from laughter and new ones from the sadness he felt about his situation. “I really should...leave...”

The longer he spent around the beautiful man, the less Lance wanted to see him go. Fully admitting to himself that this stranger was indeed the most gorgeous creatures he’d seen all night was the easy part; the hard part was actually getting out some words that would make some goddamn sense. “You?  Kicked out? Nah~”

Trying for an easy shrug, Lance studied the noirette before him once more, taking in the state of his clothing. Apparently, judging by the way the man was picking at said rags, he was very aware of them, too.

Frowning, Lance looked at his own clothing.

He’d left his cape up at the castle, but he was still wearing his overcoat, which in his mind was kind of irritating, but was definitely nicer than what the strange man before him had on.  _ Welp, either I’m crazy or just insane.  _ As he slipped the coat off of his shoulders, Lance casually said, “I think you belong here just fine. Honestly, though, between you and me, I was falling asleep. It’s stifling up there!  So many people, and they all start to look the same after the second or third glass of--" He paused and caught the look on the man’s face before quickly finishing his sentence. “Water! Yeesh, did you think that I was actually drinking that stuff?  Trust me, things were  _ swaying _ enough without any alcohol!" That, at least, earned him a chuckle.

Pulling his arm out of the second sleeve, Lance ventured, “I’d actually love it if you stayed; I understand that you might feel a little under dressed, though your corset is very nice." He wasn’t sure why he kept dodging his own point, so he just went for it.

With a flourish, Lance took two steps forward and threw his coat over the man’s shoulders, settling the flashy crimson over his tattered shirt and buttoning the top button to make sure it didn’t fall off. This left the Prince in only his pale blue button-up. “There,” he commented, smiling. “Now you look like the King himself~”

Keith blinked as the man drew closer and before he knew it, there was an overcoat on his shoulders and the only thought his brain has was,  _ Wow, he fills out that shirt very nicely _ . A blush rose on his cheeks and he glanced everywhere but the very attractive highborn in front of him. Holding up a hand and stepping backwards, the noirette tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. Clearing his throat, Keith looked down at his corset and the boning that was showing through the thing threadbare fabric.

“Uh...thanks. I think." He tucked his hair behind his ear again and pursed his lips slightly, not exactly sure what to say or what to do.

He was of a mind to rip the coat from his shoulders and book it out of there and never look back, but he stamped that flight response down. “I, uh...are you sure you’d even want this to touch...someone like me…?" His mind took a dark turn and suddenly felt very self-conscious about what he was wearing, even more so than he had before. It took a while for Keith to even think of bringing his gaze up to brilliant blue orbs. H-how had he...missed those before…?

“Don’t say it like that,” Lance insisted, getting lost in cesious eyes before he knew he’d been wandering. “You’re not dirty. You’re a little smudged around the edges maybe, but even I get like that. Trust me, you look better in that coat than I do." Never mind that it was been tailored specifically for him, the stranger before him made it look like it had life, like it was  _ more _ than just an ornate object to put on when pretending to care about being proper.

Noticing the nervousness still hanging around the noirette, Lance finally shook himself from his daze and took a polite step back. He didn’t want to scare the man, after all.

As he moved, the song filtering through the garden changed, and Lance smiled at the original composition. Without really thinking, he found himself swaying to the dreamy music before catching the noirette’s eyes and quickly growing awkward once again. “Erm...I know the composer,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re the brother of a friend of mine."  _ One of my only friends _ , he didn’t add. 

Trying to find something more interesting to talk about than people he didn’t feel like putting names to for fear of giving himself away, Lance quickly said, “I bet you could compose something, too, though. You seem to have an ear for music. Did you learn as a kid?  Or is it just innate?" Laughing he said, “I always wanted to be able to sing, but everyone says I’m tone deaf.”

Keith watched the man’s slightly awkward movements along with the music and tried not to smile. It was obvious that he likes the sound, but lacked the ear to tune his movements to the notes. “They have much more of an ear than I do,” Keith muttered after a moment. He picked at the golden threaded edge of the coat and stared down at his feet. “But, uh. That song from before...my mother...years ago, used to sing it to me. She wrote her own lyrics for it in her native tongue and would..." He paused and smiled sadly. “She’d sing it for me when I was upset. I can’t speak the language very well, but I could always remember the words.”

The noirette closed his eyes and listened to the music. It was soft, pretty. It sounded like a song that one would compose for someone they loved. It wasn’t a song dimmed by sad memories, like the previous one was. And Keith was a little afraid that he wouldn’t be able to match the movements to the notes very well, but he decided to try.

“For a song like this,” he whispered, “You have to imagine yourself floating along with the breeze. During the long notes are the changes in the steps, on the short notes is when you stop or start quickly.” 

Watching as the man effortlessly floated to the music, Lance nodded absently and said, “You look like your floating." He wished he could snatch some of that grace and beauty and keep it with him forever. The thought made him go red.

Keith added a slight quickness to the next pirouette. Then, on a particularly long note, he stood on his right foot, rising up on his toes and lifted his other leg into the air, spreading his arms wide in almost a bow, his legs creating a straight line. 

“I wish I could look like that,” Lance suddenly babbled, shifting awkwardly.

As the next note sounded, Keith moved back up, using the foot he had weight on to spin him and bent his leg til his toes touched his opposite knee. It was a move he hadn’t done in quite some time, and he started to lose his footing.

 “But you know, this is supposed to be a two person song, and every time I try to dance with anyone, I just end up acting stiff and awkward. Well, I mean, it’s not horrible, but I’m nowhere close to where you are, er, skill wise." As his words finally died away, the stranger bobbled on the particularly precarious movement he had just executed, and Lance suddenly found himself lunging forward in an attempt to stop the inevitable.

Keith’s ankle finally gave out, not used to having all of his weight put on it and he landed against the man’s chest with an “oof!” after the man had rushed forward, noticing that Keith was about to fall. He smacked his hands on the stranger’s shoulders and winced at the sound of the impact, knowing that it had to have hurt. He settled onto both of his feet and let out a quick breath.

That was one thing about dancing that Keith was always uncomfortable with, the fact that you could fall at any moment.

The noirette looked down at his feet and almost missed the way his hair flopped forward to land against the highborn’s chest. 

“Wow, that was close. Are you alright?”

Blinking at the royal’s sudden question, he whipped his head back up, and unfortunately, the other was not expecting it and Keith’s head connected strongly with the other’s chin. Keith stumbled backward and held his head.

“Ouch...sorry...” he mumbled, wincing and looking up at the highborn, hoping he hadn’t hurt him too badly.

Trying not to look too distressed as his tongue began to bleed quite badly, Lance managed a smile and said, “You know, I always thought they were kidding when they said to keep your mouth closed when dancing. Whoda thunk it?" When the man in front of him jumped and twitched his head from side to side, like he was looking for a way out, Lane hurriedly said, “I’m kidding, I’m  _ fine.  _ Better my tongue than your face."  _ It’s such a gorgeous face, after all. I’m surprised you haven’t been broken out there yet. _

The cynical edge to his thoughts caught him off guard, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable. Reaching forward, Lance brushed some of the stranger’s mussed hair behind an ear as he seemed to fond of doing and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be trying any of that, if it’s all the same to you. I’d probably break something.”

While he spoke, the song above them changed, and Lance pulled his hand away from the stranger’s face. As the hopeful sounding composition flowed over them, Lance said, “Ah, I’m obviously not as talented as your mom is—was. But...I do know this song. I don’t think I’ll step on you too much or anything.”

Keith pursed his lips at the words and mumbled, “My mom’s not the one who taught me to dance.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, then,” Lance said, air blowing from his nose in a short laugh. As they stood there in silence, Lance realized that he’d forgotten to actually ask the question in the first place. The Prince gave himself a little shake before putting on a calm smile and dropping to a slight bow. “Sorry, I’m being presumptuous. Would you be so kind as to..." He trailed off as the stranger began to chuckle. Frazzled, Lance straightened and gave the noirette a plaintive look. “Come on, I’m just trying to ask you to dance.”

Keith pulled his hand up to fiddle with the hair that the highborn had tucked behind his ear and chuckled again. He wasn’t sure why this person was even wanting to be near him, let alone touch him. But from the amount of time they’d spent just...standing there, Keith supposed that he wasn’t all bad. He normally didn’t like royals. They always acted as if he and the rest weren’t even alive, so if this one highborn was treating him like an actual living being, Keith supposed he could allow it, just this once.

In reality, he just wanted to touch the man again. There had been something so...comforting about the way he had held onto Keith’s waist when he caught him. It hadn’t been the first time someone had had their hands on his waist like that, but in most of those other times, it had felt wrong...sinful...disgusting. But when this highborn had held him...he felt none of that. All he felt was comfort radiating from those hands that held him securely enough so that he wouldn’t fall, but gentle in a way that seemed to point at the fact that he was scared of holding too tightly, like Keith would break.

Smiling to himself, Keith extended one arm and put the other behind his back, fisting his hand. He extended his leg to touch the ground softly with tip of his foot, the same as a horse would, and bowed. “It would be,” he paused and picked his head up to look at the man staring at him in shock and winked. “My honor, kind sir." He chuckled at the blinking highborn in front of him.

Lance had expected fully to be turned away. And yet, here was the beautiful stranger, accepting his offer. 

Flabbergasted, Lance took a second to collect himself before clearing his throat and catching that slender hand in his own. “No, please, the honor is all mine." Those pale delicate digits fit so perfectly into Lance’s hand, and he was tempted to just stop and marvel at that sensation. As the notes floated by, the Prince pushed himself into gear once more. “I hope you don’t mind if I lead." When the man made no indication otherwise, and in fact snorted, Lance took that as a yes. After all, he was the taller of the two, and the stranger seemed to know both parts, which was more than Lance could say for himself.

After a moment’s hesitation, because the magnetic pull of the man before him was almost  _ too _ good to be real, Lance gave in and placed his hand on the small of the stranger’s back. As he did so, he noted the tapered torso, the narrow waist, the slightly too jutting hipbones, the--

His hand shifted and the noirette let out a gasp of pain. Wonder turning to worry, Lance dropped the man’s hand in favor of cupping that angled cheekbone in his palm and quickly saying, “Oh, god, I hurt you. Are you—what did I do?  I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to—are you alright?”

When the man tried to pull away, almost like he was scared of Lane and his questions the Prince stopped him with a grip of steel. The momentary flash of terror that crossed the stranger’s features, however, was enough to make Lance back off.

_ I screwed it up… _

“I’m sorry,” Lance repeated, feeling his heart wrench as the man wrapped his arms around his torso and stared at the ground. “I...I didn’t mean to treat you like that...I just...I didn’t want to see you run. I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Keith had almost forgotten about  _ that _ particular bruise that covered the expanse of his lower back. He’d had a...run in...with one of the priest’s canes a few days before. It normally didn’t bother him...unless something touched it. He tried to mask the sudden terror he’d felt at the memory of the event, but the sudden grip the highborn had had brought that terrifying sensation of being out of control back into his mind. He tried to whisk it away quickly, because this man was not  _ them _ , but he knew that it was too late and the stranger had seen the thing that Keith was more afraid of admitting to...that the priests terrified him.

As the man in front of him started to pace a few steps before turning back and stepping again, thrusting his hands into his hair, Keith blinked and dropped his arms to his side. Was this guy...really that worried?  It wasn’t  _ his _ fault. Why was he freaking out so bad?  Keith felt horrible. He’d agreed to dance with him, and then ruined it because of one stupid injury that shouldn’t have made that much of an impact and one stupid memory that Keith would rather forget.

Shaking his head, thrusting the memory of the cane against his back into the farthest recesses of his brain, Keith snaked a hand forward and yanked on the highborn’s shirt, probably popping a stitch or two, but it was the only way to get him to stop freaking out. 

“Hey...it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Keith muttered, glancing away from the near tears that the royal had in his eyes. “I got...hurt...there...a few days ago, and it’s still rather sore. That’s all. It wasn’t your doing." He sighed and looked back up at the taller male. He reached his other hand forward and softly brushed a lone tear from the highborn’s face. “Please...don’t cry over that. I’m alright. I promise." He smiled up at the man and released his shirt to pull his hands forward again, having his rest on palm on Keith’s hip instead. “There. That part doesn’t hurt. So please...let’s continue…?”

Blinking the stupid tears from his eyes, Lance let out a watery laugh. He couldn’t even explain the pain that had coursed through him at the thought that he’d hurt the stranger, but maybe the man could understand it for him. Allowing himself to be re-positioned, Lance stared down at the other and suddenly moved, pressing them tighter together, checking the man’s hip with his own. It was a position for a much more intimate dance, not just formality but familiarity, but it felt right.

And, as the song changed to something of a ballad, Lance found it appropriate. 

As the stranger’s hand crept up Lance’s shoulder until it was almost cupping his neck, the Prince grinned down at the man and said, “I mean, if you insist. I’d love to~”

Before the noirette could protest, Lance moved. As the song swelled around them, or really drifted, the Prince spun with his beautiful stranger, letting it all just soak in. As the two of them danced, Lance found himself just getting lost in the feeling of the stranger against him. He fit perfectly, like he’d been made to stand beside the Prince. It was so ridiculous, and yet, Lance found himself hoping,  _ praying _ that he wasn’t the only one feeling this. As the song changed into a new one, he slightly altered their position and changed his foot sequencing accordingly. The stranger simply melted with him, and even though the noirette had been initially quite wary, the music seemed to soothe him, drawing out a new side of the man that Lane greedily ate up.

_ God, he’s beautiful. _

__ __ There was something rather...magical about the way they swung to the notes of the ballad and then the waltz that filtered through the open doors of the palace balconies. Keith couldn’t put his metaphorical finger on it, but it almost felt like this stranger and he were made to dance together. Keith had danced with many people. Men and women alike had been his partners. And yet, the noirette had never been as comfortable pressed against someone as he was now, chest against chest, their feet moving in perfect rhythm. His hand fit perfectly in the highborn’s, and his grip was strong yet gentle. The other’s more tanned fingers were longer, and Keith could feel the way his fingertips squeezed a spot on his hip that was bordering on ticklish but felt comfortable nonetheless.

_ I wonder if he is feeling this, too? _

Keith’s thoughts screamed, rebelling against the mere possibly that the stranger did not. Oh, how he wished he could learn this name’s name, because at some point or another, the music would end, the party would be over, and they would go about their own lives once more, probably never to see each other again.

And that thought made Keith unbelievably said.

But in the end, Keith knew that if he asked, this time they spent, this spell that worked over them, would be broken and nothing would repair it. Because once they knew the truth of their identities, it would all be real, and they would be forced to return to being just peasant and royal, two souls that were never meant to meet but by some stroke of luck were able to spend a magical night of dancing together.

Swaying with the stranger, Lance softly said, “You know, I didn’t actually think that I’d have fun tonight." As the song stopped and Lance suddenly realized that he’d said something that he wasn’t going to be able to take back, he started to stammer, “I mean, I was having fun and all, but it was boring, and I almost fell asleep, and then someone had to yell at me, and—You know, it was boring." Huffing, not yet letting go of the man’s hand or waist despite the fact they were no longer moving, Lance said bluntly, “You’re pretty nice to dance with.”

At that statement, Keith raised an eyebrow and a small smirk graced his features, but he said nothing, content to let the royal babble.

“A-and talk to, and just...Be around. So thanks for turning this night into one of the best ones I’ve ever-- Ah, I mean, thank you for dancing...with me~”

Cutting off his own stupid words, Lance reluctantly let go of the stranger’s waist, but when he went to drop the man’s hand, he found that he just...couldn’t. Staring at their linked hands, Lance took a deep breath and risked looking at the beautiful stranger before him. Those wide, stormy eyes had migrated from Lance’s to fix themselves on their hands, like the man was trying to work out if what was happening was a dream or not, but then he turned, and Lance felt his heart thud painfully.

_ I can’t just let this man walk away from me; he’s perfect.  _ “Do you want to just walk for a while?” Lance started, his words moving too fast for his own good. Cursing once again, Lance insisted, “I mean, if you’re all the way down here, then you might as well walk with me, r-right?" His laugh was just as awkward as Lance had feared it would be.

Keith opened his mouth to speak, to say that he really should be going, but the look in the stranger’s eyes was too...gravitational, for its own good. Keith found that he really,  _ really _ didn’t want to leave. He wanted to make this night last, for as long as he possibly could, before he had to return to his own personal hell. 

He sighed and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He squeezed the stranger’s hand in his own and nodded. “I’d love to,” he whispered, grateful that the sad, pathetic lost puppy look had retreated from his stranger’s eyes. As cute as it was, Keith just wasn’t affected by it as much as another might be. He live with over fifty children, after all.

Unfortunately, as Keith was sure the royal was aware, the noirette did not have the first clue about where any of the paths were in the gardens. This grove they now stood in, the air still rife with the electricity left over from their dance, was as far at Keith had thought to wander, for fear of getting lost. “Ah...” he murmured, shrugging lightly and looking up at the stranger in defeat. “I think that you should lead the way." When those cerulean eyes widened and a tawny eyebrow rose slowly, Keith huffed and looked away quickly. “I...don’t really know where anything is, okay?  This is usually as far as I go.”

Giving the man a lopsided grin, Lance said, "It would be my pleasure." 

Since he didn't want to completely confuse the stranger, Lance pulled him along beside the river so that they'd have a definite path to follow. The whole thing had been lit up at some point, probably by Hunk and the other gardeners, and Lance loved it. If the noirette's wide eyes were any indication, he was marveling at it too. 

Running his free hand through the Queen Ann's Lace and Lilies that lined the path, Lance chuckled and said, "I'm not surprised you'd come here, this is my favorite place on the castle grounds too. It's just so calm and everything. I love it." His eyes grew softer as he talked, the unending peace of the garden overtaking his nerves and injecting him with a little more ease to his steps.

As he calmed down, Lance settled into step beside the stranger so he could say, "I know you probably don't want to tell me where you're from, but wherever it is, I hope it's close to here. It'd be a shame if you had to go far to be here." 

Keith let the highborn lead him, and he was taken aback by the pure  _ beauty _ that he had missed in his efforts to find a place to hide away. Inwardly, he chided himself. Of course, the gardens would be beautiful. They were tended and watched over by one of the most famous planters of that generation. Keith wasn't sure of the man's name, but he knew how much work he put into these gardens. He'd seen it himself.

Smiling brightly, Lance insisted, "If you were wondering or anything, you can come here whenever you want. My- er- The castle gardens are your gardens." Squeezing the man's hand, he added, "Besides, you fit here."  _ You're more beautiful than all of it, but you bring the rest of it to life. _ Lance bit his tongue on the words. He wasn't sure  _ why _ he kept talking like this, but at times, he found himself unable to quite stop. Thankfully, he was able to keep most of the embarrassing stuff to himself, but any number of things were still fighting to escape him.

"They are, really pretty," Keith managed to stutter out when the highborn finally took a break in between his rapid fire babbling. "It was a good place to...escape my life...y'know?"

Instead of continuing his unending babble, Lance studied the stranger once again. As the man's eyes wandered over the garden, Lance took note of the little details that he'd missed before. The small curls wafting down from below the man's ear, the circles under his eyes, the faint calluses on his fingers. At the same time though, he also noticed the stains on the stranger's tunic, the fading bruise on the side of his jaw, the scratches on his knuckles. It painted a picture that Lance didn't understand, but sorely wished he did. There was so much to this stranger, and he seemed only able to scratch the very surface.

Glancing to the side, Keith’s eyes fell on the mysterious royal that was his companion and the way he tried to hide the way that he was staring at Keith, but it was almost painfully obvious. He supposed it must be strange, seeing a lowly orphan like himself around all these beautiful flowers. Keith smiled and looked down at his feet. "It's not...too far." When the royal gave him a confused look, Keith added, “From my home, I mean. A few miles at most, but if I take the shortcuts, it's usually quicker. A little riskier, maybe, but definitely faster." When the taller male blanched a little at the mention of  _ risk _ , Keith chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm pretty good about staying out of trouble."

Suddenly, Keith's attention caught on something the stranger had been about to say. He had started his sentence with "my",  and it definitely didn't escape the noirette's notice.  _ So he must live in the castle. Well, that doesn't really tell me much _ .

Shaking the thought from his mind, Keith looked back up at the brunet and took in what little he could in quick glances. Despite the pampered life Keith was sure this royal lived, his hands were slightly rough, in the places one would get them when they practiced with a sword for years. He obviously was very fit, which was apparent through his tight fitting clothes. The way this man spoke, the things he wore, the way he carried himself, he was definitely born among royalty, but if Keith unfocused his eyes a little in the dim lighting, he could almost catch the slightly shiny skin of a scar longed healed over his left eyebrow.

It made Keith want to reach out and run his finger along the smooth skin that resided there. It wasn't until the brunet had raised said eyebrow that Keith realized that his hand had moved all on its own and was about to do exactly what he had imagined doing.

If he had been anyone else, Lance might have told the stranger off. Most of the time, there would have been guards who would have thrown the man from Lance's presence for even  _ daring _ to reach out to the prince. Since it was only the two of them, though, and the noirette's fingertips were cool against the old injury, Lance would allow it.   
_ As if I’d be able to say no. _

"Wanna know how I got it?" Lance asked, chuckling softly at the startled look on the man's face.  _ Relax, I'm not going to throw you out or something for a thing that small. _ But he couldn't exactly say that, so he tried to show it by keeping his pace even and his footsteps light and carefree.

When the man didn't immediately respond, Lance decided to launch into the story regardless. "It's actually really stupid, because really, did you think I got an injury from something interesting?" He laughed at himself. "Obviously not. No, I got this when I was young!" 

As the man's hand drew back from the mark, Lance turned his head from side to side, trying to find a good way to start the old memory. "I was pretty dumb as a kid. Actually, I still am. But I had this idea that I was going to be a hero! You know, save some people! Of course, there's not much to save when you live in a castle." Trailing off, he lapsed into momentary silence as he remembered the many times he'd snuck food to his servants and brought bandages to the women who lived in the basements of the castle with their children.

Realizing the man was still keeping quiet, Lance quickly continued, "So anyway, my father took me outside of the castle one day, and we were down in the nearby village, and you know, it was this big  _ thing _ and stuff." He didn't want to say it was a parade, but it had been. "But I got bored, so I wandered off to look for things to do." Sheepishly, he grinned looked up at the starry sky. "I'm pretty absent minded. Man, I must suck all 'round, right?" Shaking his head, Lance cleared his throat. "So I end up in this alley or something. I dunno, the details are fuzzy. And there was this old guy in a white robe, and he looked like he was hitting something. So I got closer, and he was hitting this kid that was, like, my age."

Brows furrowing as he remembered limp hair and tattered rags falling off of a bony frame, Lance announced, "So, of course, I stepped in, because I wanted to be a hero!" His face fell. "Unfortunately, it turns out that the guy was  _ a lot _ stronger than me. He hit me right across the face, almost put my eye out. But the other kid got away, so it was all good. I wasn't much of a hero cause I couldn't do anything, but I tried and I sort of succeeded." Rubbing the mark, Lance finished, "When my father asked, I lied and said that I fell. He believed me." Grinning, he dipped his head and said, "So, that's how I got that mark."

Through most of the tale that the stranger recounted to him, Keith nodded and listened, snorting at parts that seemed so much like the royal that even Keith, in his limited knowledge of who this man was, could image how he went about it. 

Suddenly, as if a window had been thrown open, a memory flooded into the front of Keith's mind.

It was a voice, at first, yelling,  _ "How dare you disobey me, you wretch!" _

Then it turned into the memory of the pain of a boot connecting with his stomach, his chest; the way a fist smashed into his small face, knocking loose a tooth or two. Thankfully, they were his baby teeth, and his adult ones grew in not long after, if he remembered correctly.

But then it was the memory of a boy, dressed in expensive robes, a look of defiance on his face as he yanked on the priest's cloak. From that flash of memory, Keith saw the priest reel back and smack the boy across the face, his ring connecting with the other's forehead, cutting it open quite badly.

As the memory ground its way through Keith's mind, body, and soul, he was not able to focus on where he was walking. His toe caught on an uneven stone in the walkway and the ground began to rush forward towards his face. Vaguely, still in the throes of the memory, he wondered if this would be how he died. Later, he would recount how ridiculous that statement even was.

Lance wasn't really quite sure what happened. One moment his companion was standing, chuckling at his admittedly ridiculous story, and the next he was falling face first, tripping over several stones and into the candle-lit flowers on the bank of the river. Lunging forward, the brunet let out a swear word in a language his tutor had been trying to teach him for three years and managed to violently destroy several of the delicate candle stands in his haste to catch the stranger. Wrapping one arm around the man's waist, one behind his shoulders, Lance awkwardly attempted to avoid whatever bruises the noirette had as he stumbled away from the river bank, still buzzing with adrenaline.

It took a moment to get his wits together. But once he did, he realized the situation he'd put the two of them in. He'd been quite insistently holding the stranger as close to him as was physically possible, with his hips pressed into Lance's own hips, and that tousled head of hair tucked protectively under the Prince's chin. Suddenly hyper aware of everything around him, Lance felt the way his heart raced painfully.  _ Oh god, what just happened? _ It wasn't until the the stranger let out a soft, strangled sound that Lance thought to give the man some personal space. Letting go of the man, Lance was about to take several steps back when the noirette all but wilted in his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, keeping the thin man upright while he dragged a palm across the man's skin. It wasn't clammy, so he wasn't sick, but his face was ashen. His eyes were wide, as though caught between fear and wonder. Guiding the man over to the bridge they'd been about to cross before their mishap, Lance accidentally knocked a few more candle flowers into the water as he settled the noirette down. "Come on, talk to me. You're fine, I promise, just... don't look at me like that. I don't know what to do." Frustrated, Lance shook the man's shoulders as lightly as he could while begging, "Please, please be okay."

Keith tried to suck in a breath, but it was like a mountain of gravel and dirt was being poured over his head, sucking all the oxygen from him before he could even attempt to take a breath. His whole world was spinning with a memory that he had long since repressed, much like all the other times the priests laid their hands on him.

But someone was talking to him. Someone that was real, tangible, that was right in front of him. Someone that he could cling to. He hadn't thought to cling to anyone in years, but...this time, he needed it.

Reaching his hands forward, Keith felt shoulders covered in expensive, silken fabric. Right, that was right...his stranger was still there with him. He gripped the man's shoulders harder than he should have. He leaned forward and settled his forehead against the other's chest.

Keith was okay.

He was okay because...the royal boy that had saved him all those years ago from more pain on that day, the one that had given Keith hope for his own future, was right in front of him. He'd searched, and searched, and searched for him. But a poor peasant boy could never have any chance of finding one royal child, not when that poor boy would be cast out as soon as he was seen.

But he was here, and Keith was suddenly struck with the realization that maybe that was why the highborn had seemed to familiar to him when they first met. It seemed like years ago, but was in reality only an hour or two at most.

Using the steady presence of the man in front of him, Keith was able to take in a few deep breaths.

"I'm...I'm alright. I just..." Keith wasn't sure if he should mention that he was the boy the man standing before him now had saved all those years ago. He didn't want to make this royal’s life difficult, so in the end, he kept it to himself. "I moved weird and it hurt...the bruise on my back," Keith lied smoothly, not wanting to worry the other too much. "It hurt a lot, but I'm okay now." He turned cesious eyes to cerulean and smiled sadly. Keith wished he could take that look of pure, unadulterated worry that penetrated those beautiful eyes that shone like the sky at twilight.

Though Lance wasn't quite sure the man was telling the truth, he wasn't about to push it.  _ What did Hunk always do when I skinned my knees... Distraction! _ Careful not to bump anything that might have hurt, Lance turned the two of them so they were sitting on the edge of the bridge. The stranger made confused sounds, but didn't try to stop him, and once Lance settled down next to him, the noirette calmed. 

Carefully putting an arm around the man's shoulder,  _ to keep him from falling in _ , Lance convinced himself, the Prince said, "Okay, good, I don't want to hurt you."  _ Man, crossing a line much. _ "I mean, you're like my-  _ their _ guest, even though you think you don't belong here. So it's my duty to keep you safe while you're here!"

Already feeling like he needed a distraction from the initial distraction, Lance looked out over the bridge and chuckled as he noticed the candles and their flowers slowly making their way out from under the bridge beneath them. Each of them were rather long-lasting things, and they'd all been set in open, metal water lilies. Unfortunately, now that they were in the river, they had been given one of two choices. Since they weren't heavy enough to sink, they instead floated down with the current, a beautiful parade of fairy boats, each complete with their tiny torches. Later, he'd probably feel bad about losing them when Hunk was so meticulous about his garden, but for now, he used their presence as a distraction.

Pulling the man more tightly against him, Lance pointed and said, "Look at them all, they're like little ships, trying to find someone." When the stranger did nothing but stare at him with those eyes that held too much for someone so young, Lance shook his head a little and picked up a couple of the little flower lights. "Maybe if we send them out, they'll find someone for us. No matter where they are, the lights will find them." 

Handing the stranger the flower, Lance watched as the metal filigreed petals seemed to form to those pale hands, and that perfect face illuminated under the flame. Almost predictably, Lance felt his cheeks flair red, and he quickly put his mind to other things. Bending down on the already low foot bridge, Lance dangled his lily over the water and said softly, "I wish my new companion would one day find his mom, because she'd be proud to see how wonderfully he's turned out." With those words, he let the flower plop into the water. For a second, it bobbled, then it straightened and sailed away, joining it's brethren.

Keith blinked at the way this highborn was attempting to distract him from whatever the noirette was trying to hide. Despite how much the brunet put himself down, he was rather astute. The empathy he possessed astounded Keith. But he smiled at the way those long, tanned fingers dangled over the water, releasing the little ‘ship’. He hadn't exactly heard what the royal had whispered to it as it floated away, and Keith felt like if he asked, it would take away the magic that went with it. The thought of magic kind of made Keith want to snort, but he kept it to himself. 

This night...it was filled with magic. Whether it was all in his head or it was the music still tinkling out behind them, mixing with the sounds of the brook, Keith wasn't sure, but he felt a strange sense of... _ something _ that he could almost reach out and touch.

Trying to keep himself from spiraling too far into his own thoughts, Keith looked down at the flickering flame of the candle in his hands. The royal was looking at him expectantly, like he wanted Keith to do the same as he had done. To someone else, it might have seemed stupid, but to Keith…

The noirette looked around quickly and opened his mouth a few times, but ended up snapping it shut and sighing.  _ I suppose there's no...harm in it, is there? _  Reaching a hand out, Keith gripped the man's arm, and relished in the fact that the brunet did the same, holding him in place. He leaned forward and closed his eyes.

"I wish..." he paused and then sighed. Whispering, he continued, "I wish that this night won't end up a dream...I wish that one day, we'll be brought together again."  _ Goddamn, that was...ugh.  _ It sounded dumb...but it was what Keith really wanted. He knew that the night would end, but maybe fate would be kind and bring their paths together to cross once more.

As they both watched their candles float away, Lance was tempted to ask what the other had wished for, but he decided against it. Instead, he said, "Now they can follow the candles back to us. They'll guide them home." And even though he'd pretty much made it up on the spot, he clung to the idea, much like he kept ahold of the stranger's arm, even though he'd already sat back up.

For a moment, Lance stayed like that, frozen in a moment of time that could have lasted for days, before slipping his hand lower, trailing it down the man's arm until it landed in his own palm.  _ Maybe the magic is real, maybe I should release another and wish that I'll see him again. _ Or maybe he'd simply look stupid. So instead, he put on a smile and squeezed the noirette's hand.

"You know," Lance said softly, his eyes growing distant as the lights disappeared behind one of the many twists of the river. "I never really get the chance to talk to people like this. Most people treat me weird, but you treat me normally, and I really like that. You're really..." his voice died in his throat as those cesious eyes tuned on him. "Wonderful," Lance finished, his voice faint. Face turning red, he squeezed the stranger's hand and babbled, "And I  _ know _ that you say you don't belong, but I'm telling you that I really think you do belong. You belong here. Like, with me. Does that make sense? I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense." Putting his head in his hand, he groaned softly and mumbled, "Forget I said anything; I guess I’m not used to talking to people or something."

Keith watched the other babble on and as the highborn's thoughts apparently began to flail, he chuckled softly. "I really...appreciate that." Sighing, Keith relaxed and looked up at the sky, spying one of the constellations that could be seen this time of year. Reaching up his free hand towards the sky, the noirette felt like he could touch the stars. He  _ wished _ he could touch them. "I don’t much feel like I belong anywhere, to be honest. When my mom...left- The streets were my home, you know?  But I knew I didn't belong there."

The rational part of Keith's brain told him to shut up, but the part that won out, the sentimental part, urged him forward. "When...when I had been on the streets a few years...a priest found me and brought me to an orphanage. And...I've been there every since." He glanced at the brunet at his side, the sad look on his face making Keith squeeze his hand tighter. "But I don't belong there. And as much as I wish I could say that you're right, I don't really...belong here either." Those blue eyes darkened, the smile that had formed on his face faded, and Keith felt horrible that he had taken that away. But...he'd started this so he might as well finish it.

"I can’t imagine that I’d belong  _ anywhere _ … not yet anyway. I need to get away from this town, this country, even. I need to find out what's out there...I need to make my own way." Keith sighed. He dropped his hand and leaned sideways so he could plunk his head on the only slightly boney shoulder of the man next to him.

"I'm sorry. I brought things back down again...I do that a lot."

"That's alright, it's... what you're really feeling, you know~" Resting his head slightly on the other man's fluffy raven hair, Lance took a deep breath and continued, "There's a big world out there, and you've only seen a little of it. So I hope that one day you get to see it. Maybe you can come back and tell me what it's like."  _ Maybe, you can come back to me. _

But that was stupid.

_ Except maybe it isn’t… _ "Hey um... I just wanted to say," Lance mumbled, his voice faint. "That tonight has been really-"

_ "Ohmygod, _ where are you!? I'm going to skin you alive!!"

"Calm down, Pidge, I'm sure he's-"

"Calm down?! I'm gonna make  _ you _ calm down if you say one more word-!"

The voices in the distance caused Keith's head to snap back up, slightly hitting the other's chin once again.  _ Oh, no. No, no no! _  Keith stumbled out of the royal's grip, shaking the hand from his own.

Lance stared at the noirette in confusion, still half in a daze and unsure why the man was trying to get away. “What- Why are you--?”

"Let go!  I have to go!" he hissed, but the other didn't seem to want to release him. Putting all of his strength into it, Keith yanked his hand from the other and turned, tumbling off of the bridge and back to the riverbank. 

Behind them, the noirette heard someone shout, “Hey, um, if you can hear us, Pidge is really worried about you, and you know how they get when they’re worried, so if you could come back sometime, that’d be nice.”  _ I have to run!  Now! C'mon! _

Even though he’d heard the voices calling him by now, Lance stumbled to his feet and stretched out his hand. “Hey! Don’t go!”

“I have to!" Keith called, his voice wild. As the voices got louder, his panic intensified and he redoubled his speed stumbling along the loose rocks of the path, attempting not to trip over the candle stands in his way.

"NO! Wait!!” yelled the highborn from behind him. But Keith was only vaguely aware of the royal coming after him. In truth, his only thought was to  **_run_ ** .

“Stop, come back!!" Chasing after the noirette, Lance stumbled on the rocky path and felt himself going down. As the stranger in his red tailcoat vanished into the darkness, Lance let out one last, "Come back to me!" before landing face first in the dirt. Spitting out bits of gravel, Lance wiped the blood that had dribbled into his eyes away and tried to stumble to his feet, only to fall once more.  _ Don't leave me, _ he wanted to yell, but before he could, the pounding footsteps behind him caught up and he was being helped to his feet by two pairs of worried hands.

"Lance, oh my god, what are you doing out here?" Pidge demanded, brushing him off, while Hunk concernedly dabbed at the small cut beneath his hairline. Looking between the two of them, Lance desperately looked up, as if he might be able to see the mysterious man once more, but there was nothing but softly swaying trees. "We heard you yelling. What were you saying? Are you alright? When I told you to socialize, I meant it! I didn't mean go outside and get hurt."

"I-I'm fine," Lance told them, brushing off Pidge's hands absently. His palms ached where they'd skidded over the ground, but he ignored them, more focused on trying to get his head to work right.  _ They're gone. _ It felt like a dream. A wonderful, beautifully tragic, yet undeniably hopeful dream. He wanted to still be asleep. Hunk tried to pick him up, and Lance let out a groan that was a rough approximation of his usual attitude. "C'mon, I'm alright, I can walk back on my own. I only... got a little lost."

"Lance, you've lived here your whole life," Hunk pointed out, eyebrows arching.

"Yeah, well..." The brunet glanced over his shoulder once more before facing forward. "Sometimes new things are hiding in plain sight."

"We're getting you back to the castle," Pidge said pointedly. "Come on." Allowing his friends to pull him away, Lance thought about the man he'd danced with. Even though they'd only just parted, Lance knew that he'd give anything to see him again.  _ Someday, _ he thought, determination filling him.  _ Someday I'm going to find him. And then I'll tell him... _ Tell him what, Lance wasn't able to quite articulate, but he was pretty sure that he'd know if he saw the noirette again.

With those thoughts in mind, he picked up the pace and headed back towards his home.

He only just wished that he would have been able to see that brilliant smile… one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Blaine here! I hope you enjoyed this first installment of Light A Candle For Me. I would love to say its going to get easier, but honestly...it wont, not for a while. I am so glad that Que came up with the idea for this fic. At first, I thought they were going to work on Chapter 2 of Lily Of The Valley, but this being a standalone thing was an amazing choice, and it gave us a reason to start something knew, something that neither of us were used to doing. Most of the dancing sections were written by me, and to be honest, they probably suck. I do now know the first thing about dancing. I was just going from memory of what I've seen people do.
> 
> Anyyywhoooooo, I also wanted to share this with you guys:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykllIKJyazw  
> This song is called Stay Home by Thomas Dybdahl. This is the song that I personally was imagining that Keith was singing along to, but in Galran words, because, you know. His mom is Galra. But this song is so beautiful and I know you guys would love it. Its so pretty and fits so damn well with this fic. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this, and I'll see you in the next chapter!!  
> P.S. if anyone wants to make fanart for us, that would be a dream come true, but I'm probably just being dumb xD
> 
> ~Blaine


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